


Blood Like Holy Wine

by damnslippyplanet



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood and Feelings, Post-Episode: s02e13 Mizumono, Yes I Realize Those First Two Tags Are Redundant, everything is terrible and everything hurts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-04 08:42:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5327822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damnslippyplanet/pseuds/damnslippyplanet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hannibal tries to keep his shit together after Mizumono.  He has very little chill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Like Holy Wine

> _You're in my blood like holy wine_  
>  _Oh, you taste so bitter but you taste so sweet_  
>  _I could drink a case of you darling_  
>  _Still I'd be on my feet_  
>  _~ Joni Mitchell, "A Case Of You"_

"Close your eyes. Wade into the quiet of the stream."

He leaves the room quickly, then. If he lets himself stay for even a moment longer, he'll be lost. He might pick up the knife again and finish the job, burrowing deeper and deeper inside Will Graham until he finally knows what his heart tastes like. Or he might try to piece him back together again, reverse time, hold Will's shaking and spilling body together with his surgeon's hands until the police come and tear him away, keening and growling and utterly inhuman.

Either way, it would be over, all of it. Leaving now, there's a chance of escape for him, a chance of survival for Will. The same small but precious chance Will left him with that phone call. It's fair. It's just, in the harsh and bloody way that Hannibal believes in justice.

So he leaves the room, leaves Will's and Abigail's soft cries, leaves the scent of blood and terror and regret, leaves everything.

But he only goes so far.

Before he leaves for good, he leans against the wall in the hallway, getting blood everywhere but that doesn't matter now. 

He licks his lips clean of the blood that's already on them, Jack's and Abigail's and his own. A clean slate. There should be a palate cleanser but this isn't the time. Instead he just waits a moment, for the mingled tastes to fade.

Then Hannibal raises his right hand to his mouth and tastes Will Graham's blood. It's still liquid on his skin, under his fingernails; he's tempted to claw at his own veins until they open and he can press Will's blood inside of them to take with him in his flight. Instead he lets himself have just this.

Copper and salt, of course. The bitter citrus tang of fear. The distinct taste of Will himself, a flavor Hannibal has let himself savor before, discreetly, when bandaging Will's hand after Randall Tier. Beneath it all there's something else. An echo of a whisper of a dream of a taste. Something sweet like caramelized sugar, like brandy, something lush and soft that even Hannibal has no words for, although _yearning_ flits through his head as the closest association he can think of. It's hard to be sure. He's never tasted someone before who longed for him.

His knees threaten to give way and for a span of seconds he considers letting them. Falling to the carpet and waiting for the sirens, for the handcuffs, for the ambulances and the indignities, the journalists and the lawyers and the cold iron bars. Letting it all happen, just so that he can stay here with Will until it does.

Instead he gathers himself and walks out into the rain with Will Graham's blood on his lips. He holds the taste as long as he can.

He already knows that for a long time to come, anything else he tastes, however elaborately he prepares it, however carefully he sources the ingredients, is going to taste like ashes.

**Author's Note:**

> This is entirely self-indulgent unedited nonsense; thanks for bearing with me. I had a few too many _feelings_ about Joni Mitchell and "A Case of You" with a friend last night, and I've been wondering if I'm even capable of writing something _short_ and, well. This happened this morning when I should have been doing more productive things to get ready for my day.
> 
> As always, you can come find me [over on Tumblr](http://damnslippyplanet.tumblr.com/) if you too have an excess of feelings you wish to share with me.


End file.
